The Last Portrait
by tearsofphoenix
Summary: Minerva's seventh life.


**The Last Portrait**

By tearsofphoenix

Standard Disclaimer applies - it's all JKR's.

_Many thanks to all those that read and review the previous stories, with a further thank you to Wynnleaf, because what she says in her profile is one of the things that moved me out from my silent lurking._

_As at other times the revision made by Whitehound is precious. Cheers, Claire, again and again._

_When I sent my first story I thought it was all I had to say, and loved the fact that not everything there had been explained about how my dream could have happened._

_But now I'm quite fond of this comforting alternative universe, so when more little things came to my mind I can't help but write them._

_Like now._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Dressed in emerald green, her hair seemed of a darker shade than it had been when it surrounded her immobile face on the very day when the picture immortalized and revived her features on a wall of the Headmaster's office.

So now she was wearing those shining shades of black and grey, like the tabby cat that she had been, with glowing pride for such a gorgeous coat. Was this colour the last homage given to her by the unknown painter who, with his marvellous magic, had fixed for all time the interlude between life and death?

It could have been, yes, it could have, because her essence echoed so many of the mysterious sides of her transfigured shape…

Sitting in a nice armchair, that resembled that comfortable old one she kept in her private quarters, the witch had only one regret: not to have been present to witness the very moment when the tall and elegant wizard, that was pacing the room in front of her just now, had finally become free.

That moment had to her an immense value. From her new position she had, by watching and listening for every crumb of information, succeeded in putting together the shreds of the story, and had known that the freedom of her colleague and friend had been reached in the same moment when the most evil among the old schoolmates of her time – and of every time, she could swear - had met his incontrovertible and ultimate end.

She obviously had never remembered that schoolmate with the sweet nostalgic feelings reserved for the days of her youth because, even if she too had been hungry for the flattery he had used to lure so many with, she - who, like every cat worthy of its name, had always been able to be happy by herself - had fought and defeated the weakness present in every teenager and never had fallen into his dangerous circle of lies.

Meanwhile the man in front of her this moment, this outwardly not very appealing former student of hers, had been, even if hardly through his fault alone, easy prey to one who gave a false answer to the same need for respect that she had always considered the priority among the needs of every human being, even more than love, of whatever kind.

She had lived and enjoyed each and every one of her seven lives; he for too long had lived a double one, full of everything but enjoyment.

And therefore to an extent it had been the lifting of Severus's burden, more than the vanquishing of the dark wizard whose name was, finally, only a name on a grave, which she more regretted not having seen with her own eyes.

At least, the right order had been restored and everyone now had their deserved epilogue: seeing the present Headmaster opening the door and going out with a determined gaze, focused on his destination, she thought that finally everyone had gained his place, and not only in the "Distinguished Alumni" 's book, or in the showcases, as a name on a golden plaque among the cups and medals won during the decades…

Smiling to the twinkling portrait on her left, the former schoolgirl, prefect, Head Girl, teacher, Head of Gryffindor and last Headmistress of the school thought that now she could be serene, because if finally for Severus, too, a life worth living was possible, she could consider her own demise less sadly.

Even if she could no longer flee into the night like a black _shadow_ in the _moonlight_, the vital movement of black fabric just seen vanishing through the open door made her feel her new condition was _still life, _the seventh and the better.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**A/N**

_M, (not Minerva, but you know who you are) this is for you._

_I've always seen Minerva, Severus and Albus as a sort of alternative trio of heroes, as the vision in Moody's mirror luckily confirms. So this story is also an answer to some speculations – editorials - about her role in the years when she was a schoolgirl, during the same period as Tom Riddle. I don't buy those theories and don't think that JKR will turn over this character just for the sake of a last coup de theatre. _

_Living with a tomcat, and being a stern teacher but an "old softie" myself too, I had been fond of Minerva since the very beginning of the adventure. _

_While the destiny of many others is left unspoken in my alternative universe, in the first story I wrote of Minerva's death, and not only because it fitted my tale… JKR said that some will die in DH, and that __pure evil doesn't target the extras. Well, __Minerva isn't an extra, to me. But I could sacrifice her, for Snape's sake…_

_In my country, saying cats have "seven lives" is a way to represent their skill at surviving, so it seemed interesting, in this context, to use it to symbolise how Minerva didn't need to make horcruxes to live her best and survive in the right way, that of the loving memory of those that have known her ... I've been told that other countries say " nine lives", however, but... this isn't a problem... we can say that in this case she wins the "Riddle game" 9 -7 ;-)_

_Since the starting point of this one shot is a portrait, I couldn't help but give a further tribute – again with quotes in italics - to one of the more beautiful and moving tales read here, _Still Life_ by Imhilien, and to two poetic stories, _A Walking Shadow_ and _No Loyalty in the Moonlight_, by Ariadne, where – among others - Minerva is written beautifully and some very moving moments are told from portraits' POV._


End file.
